Catch Me Now
by GriffinsMustFly
Summary: No one has to remind me that I'm not Princess Rin here. I don't need a disorder to tell me that, either. Here I'm just a hot girl that all the guys want but they can't have, and that's because I already love someone else...who can't love me back.
1. That Morning

_Author's note: This story is told from the narration of Yang's daughter, Rin. If you have not read the prequel series, Battle Scars, Ever Night on Falling Rain and The Final Cut, I would suggest that you start with those first, as if you don't the story may be a little confusing. If you think you can keep up, however, or like reading things out of order, go on ahead. This story is seperate from its founders, and will be kept as seperate as possible, for all due purposes._

* * *

_Tell it like the story's spoken…bout how all her bones are broken…. _Flyleaf comes blaring through the speakers. I sit up blearily, and slam my hand down on the alarm radio. I don't want to get up, because it'll just be another day full of _them_.

And it never starts too early. In fact, here I go.

I turn the button for the music on and off until my palm has hit the button just right and everything is exactly in the place that it should be again. Unfortunately by the time I have it _just right_, the radio's still left on, but I'm not going ot take the chance of turning it off and undoing all my hard work. I have either defused a bomb somewhere or have prevented a child from being pursued by a bully. I am unsure which.

One down. Something's not right; one side of my body's unequal. I roll back and forth, counting numbers, staying on my left side longer than the other so it'll balance out, but then having to shift back over because now the left is too much.

When I started rolling it was 8:00. The clock now reads 8:30. I groan but it was worth it; somebody somewhere will be safe today.

I shuffle through my clothes on the floor and pick up pants, sitting on my bed to pull them on so I don't have to be unfair to one leg or the other and avoiding dresses altogether, because if I wear one of those the bottom of it will swish against my legs and cause one of them to be weighed down. Dressing isn't hard, as long as I make sure my shirt covers up my pants. If any little bit of it sticks up, I'll be uneven. And that's bad. That's very, very bad.

On my wall the name Rin is spelled in pretty, cursive letters. My family pitched in and did those for my sixteenth birthday slash new house sort of present. Those letters I cling to; it's the only thing that still reminds me that I am a princess, in this place where nobody knows my name. I liked it better at the palace then in this fancy new house because I had a lot of friends there, but we had to leave because if I had stayed, my progress would only get worse. What nobody gets is being away from my friends is _making _it worse.

On the oldies station (the only one I'll listen to, today's music to me is crap) I hear Sugarland.

_And I'll keep begging you baby, beg you not to leave...and I'll be left here waiting with my heart on my sleeve oh for the next time we'll be here...seems like a million years and I think I'm dying..._

My mouth is dry and I don't see what's right in front of me.

_What do I have to do to make you see…she can't love you like me!_

I pick up a teddy bear and throw it at the radio. It knocks it efficiently off the nightstand, and I am satisfied, but then fear runs through me…what if I did something to make everything _worse?_

There's the anxiety again, and I struggle…give in or just let it go? I grit my teeth and turn away, deciding to let this one go. I have to show the doctor's that I'm putting up somewhat of an effort. In a place not too far away, I have made somebody cry.

Before I go I check my cell; my heart sinks because today makes the third week straight he hasn't called. I go to put it in my pocket but it starts vibrating violently in my hand. My heart jumps but then sinks…it's only Lea.

Guilt sets in. Only Lea, my best friend, who has been putting up with my drama over _him _for the past month. Pressing the TALK button I put the phone to my ear and go, "Hello?"

"Taco Bell, how can I be of service to you?" Lea's voice comes buzzing through the phone, too bubbly for such an early morning.

"Lea, what is it?" I ask, not in the mood for games but not wanting to make her mad at me, either.

"Just calling to see if you're coming to school today," she says. "You've been missing a lot of it lately. Do you have a cold or something?"

I accept her assumption without bothering to correct her. "Yeah. A cold, that's it. And yeah, I'm coming. Don't want Peckin's to get his man panties all tangled in a knot over me not being there, right?"

"Oh no, he hates you. I swear, the days you've been gone have been the best of his life!" Her voice reaches a high point as she practically gushes out the news I already knew. I swear, if I didn't know Lea then I would assume she was constantly on some sort of drug.

"What are you doing right now?" There's a ticking sound on her side of the phone. She must be typing.

"Looking up scholarships. Hey, did you know you can get a thousand dollars for college just by joining a nudist colony?"

"Make sure to sign me up for that one," I respond, browsing through the many papers on my desk for that stupid permission form that I forgot yesterday.

"Wow, you're really going to do it? Won't your dad get mad?" Lea asks.

"No, not really!" I exclaim. I mentally make a notice in my brain to get Lea checked into the nurse's office.

"Oh, okay, good. I mean, you're really good looking and everything, drop dead gorgeous actually, but if you ever joined a nudist colony-"

"What's this about getting naked?" Daren, Lea's brother, pops into the backround. Lea puffs into the phone and exclaims, "Daren, you pig! Get out of my bathroom! What exactly are you doing in there?"

"Taking a dump," Daren says, loudly enough so he makes sure whoever is listening (AKA me) can hear it. Daren loves embarrassing Lea whenever he gets the chance.

"Ew! Daren, you're disgusting! Get out!" Lea's screaming now, and her super sonic voice is sucking the life out of my eardrums.

"Who you talking to? Is it Rin?" Daren asks, and his voice takes on a deeper manner. "If it is, tell her I think she's hot."

"No! Get out!" There's a smashing sound and the other line goes dead; whatever. I'll see Lea at school.

I can't go through the doorframe unless I stroke all the sides, making a pathway so bad things won't happen, so my dad won't get into car accidents and my mom won't get sick and so that Grandma and Grandpa won't die. My footsteps are uneven; I have to roll the sides of my foot as I walk to make them feel right again. This is annoying, but at least I'm nowhere near sidewalks. Sidewalks are the worst. I can't step on a crack at all and I have to make sure that my feet align in exactly the right place or else my family will die. That's just how it is.

A tiny little golden ball of fluff comes pounding up the stairs when he hears me coming, big puppy paws slapping the steps. My little puppy Biscuit; whining for attention, he paws at my legs and wags his plump little tail faster and faster.

"Hey there, sweetheart," I say, picking him up and cuddling him to me. "Did you miss Rinny? Did you? Did you?" I say this in a gentle tone, because both of my parents are still sleeping in the next room over.

He only gets more exuberant. He's been taught not to lick my face, thank God, but the urge on my part is too great, because honestly, he's just too cute. I lean over and place a tiny peck on Biscuit's gentle nose, even though every part of my brain is screaming in protest. My therapist will be pleased.

_That's the only kiss you'll ever get, _my brain mutters as I set the puppy down, and a sharp pang wracks through my innards. I remember what it feels like to have soft lips touch mine, to be French kissed by a boy that I was practically willing to give up everything for-

I swallow and close my eyes at the bottom of the stairs, heading towards my backpack sitting by the kitchen door. A month later, it still hurts. I don't want to count the exact days…it'll be too much. Just like deleting all the photos and his number will be too much. I won't look at them or use them, but I'm not going to let them go either.

My lips feel dirty. I lift my hand to wipe off the contamination but now I realize that the germs have spread to my them, too, which touch everything. I have to get clean now…who knows what could be on them? I reach for my trusty hand sanitizer but it's not there. I used it all up yesterday, and Mommy and Daddy refuse to buy me more. I go to the bathroom to wash my hands. And wash. And wash. And wash.

I don't even have to look at the clock to know I'm going to be late. My purse is right next to my bag; I grab them both, forget to pack a lunch, and go.

* * *

_After a careful period of consideration, I'm back with a new story...and it is Rin's story. Please please PLEASE comment and review, don't care if it's good or bad. ADVICE AND CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM ARE NEEDED! If you review mine I will plan to review yours, and as always, thanks for reading. As always, next chapter coming soon. As a short disclamer, I own nothing Flyleaf, Taco Bell, Sugarland, or Yin Yang Yo. _


	2. Sinks

I shudder as I get out of the car. I'm always nervous when I drive, because I'm scared I'm either going to cause an accident or get into one. I clap my hands together _exactly_ seventeen times, just as an extra precaution, before getting out of my car door and locking it, then walking back to check on if its locked again…and again…and again.

"Hey Rin, why'd you just do that?" Lea calls over, drinking a juice while leaning on Winslate's shoulder, while the rest of my…"friends" are talking so loud that I can hear every twitter of a letter of a word.

"Exercise strategy," I invent crazily, not blinking an eyelash. "_Fab Girl _magazine says if you walk back and forth between your parking spot and your destination at least three times, you'll shed double the calories."

"But it looks stupid," she says, taking a swig.

"I'd rather look dumb doing that then not fit into my homecoming dress," I say, knowing I've hit Lea's weak spot.

She looks down at her stomach. "That's true…" She lays a hand on her stomach and says, "I could stand to lose a couple pounds."

If Lea loses any more weight, the wind will pick her up when she walks. Without a goodbye I walk into the building, making sure my head doesn't twist back, that I never give another passing glance because that'll mean I'm not strong enough to tell my worrying head no.

Books in locker, perfectly aligned…everything in there is in immaculate order and not a speck of dirty dust in sight.

But there's dust in the house. Dust that I haven't managed to clean, haven't done anything to fix and Mommy and Daddy are in there and they're sleeping still, inhaling in whatever could be hurtling through the air; hospital visits and caskets and me and hospitals….

Sporadic, worrying thoughts. Mantra mantra mantra…

_…_

"Miss Nightstar?" A voice from the far side beckons me and I turn to see standing there, with a boy my age at her side, who is staring at me as if I was some sort of fish flopping out of the water.

"Yes?" I say, turning my attention on her, the words drowning out.

"This is Liam Andercort. He's a transfer from Airport High School." Chandler puts her hand on the boy's shoulder and he grimaces at me, as sort of a offering. I try to smile back, but my lips are chapped so it's painful and it just comes out as a grimace that says…I eat you.

He's tall, but not so much so that I'm craning to look at him. Light mahogany hair with a bit of blonde, simple clothes…not too bad, but even though I'm single and available, it doesn't take much to see that this guy just isn't my type.

"So can you show him around, Rin?" Chelber's eyes are inquiring. She's begging me to take him in. Liam looks about as eager to be chauffeured around as I am to be babysitting him.

Ugh. I'm sorry, but I don't feel like being a charity case. Not today, not ever again. If there's anything my breakup has taught me, its that I need to look out for myself. Yeah, I figured out that I'm very selfish a couple days ago. This would have bothered me, in the past.

Not now.

Liam's staring back at me, and it's a defiant kind of stare. Sort of like, _You'd be the biggest jerk in the world to help me right now. I can find my own way._

That sort of ticks me off. He doesn't want help, hm? Then I'll make sure he gets some. "I'd love to," I say, and Liam instantly pouts. "Do you have his schedule?"

"Right here." An enthused Chelber snatches the paper out of Liam's backpack and hands it over to me cheerfully. I scan it over, noticing that he's in six of my seven classes.

Tomorrow I can ditch him. It's not like I don't owe Chelber one, anyway. She knows I skip from time to time but since I can play the, 'kid with a disorder card' she lets it slide. Chelber nods at me and then leaves me alone with Liam, vanishing like a ghost the second she's no longer needed.

"Let's hit the road kid, you're with me all day." I pick up a science textbook and crook it in my arm, shifting my bag onto my shoulder.

"Don't call me kid," he says. "My name's Liam."

I roll my eyes. "Okay Liam. But, like I said, you've got every single class with me until seventh hour. By the end of the year we'll either be best friends or worst enemies," I remark.

"I don't need a friend," he says instantly. His voice is soft, yet it blasts like a cannon.

"Well I don't need another enemy," I smart back, slamming the locker in his face and heading the other way.

I slide into my seat in Biology as Liam moseys his way to an empty desk in the back far away from me; he's made a point to put as much distance between us as physically possible. Now, in fifth hour, I've stopped taking it personally. He doesn't discriminate. He hates everyone. Everything about him is pretty average, except the concealed rage that is all too easy to spot (I spent half my life in therapist's offices…I know the look). He has no personal grudge against me, but against the world, which I can (sadly) relate to. I'm working on changing that for myself, of course, but he seems to have no problem continuing his bad attitude. Which is fine by me. Whatever works for him. As long as he stays out of my way.

Lea, Winslate and Gaetane are my partners. Liam brushes Winslate roughly as he strides up to the front to sharpen his pencil; Winslate pushes away from the table and says, "Geez, how about we all stop attending National Be Pissed Off Day?"

"Don't swear," I say instantly, annoyed. I hate swearing, not only because its degrading, but because it's a instant trigger for me. Already I can feel the compulsions coming on. Underneath the table, I begin folding, unfolding and folding my fingers sporadically. Maybe somewhere a cat was rescued from a tree.

"Sorry," Winslate says. "But I mean, really, who is this kid?"

"Liam Andercourt. New guy," I say instantly.

"Oooh, do you like him?" Lea prods, always sniffing out for a new relationship to stick her nose in.

"I've only known him for a couple hours. And besides Lea…" My voice drops. "You know where my heart is."

"You still stuck on Sander?" Gaetane asks, and when I hear his name a knife splinters into me, and pulls out again.

"Yeah, you were dating him a long time, weren't you? What happened?" Winslate inquires, leaning forward.

Oh God, it hurts. You know it hurts. I don't want to answer. Stupid Liam passed us by again and heard us; he shoots me a strange glance before going back to his seat. The door slams as the teacher walks in and thankfully I am saved from giving an answer; Mr. Peckins is a tyrant.

"Quit acting like animals and sit down!" Mr. Peckins barks, coming into the room with his overpowering presence and silencing us all. "Today, we're going to be looking at mold samples. Now I need you to categorize…"

All fades into the distance as I hear these words. Mold. Mold can cause sickness. Sickness can cause disease and disease can cause death. The spores will spread across my skin and infect everyone in the room, live on my clothes until the whole house is infiltrated and then my parents will cough and soon choke for lack of clean air…

I shake myself. I've got to get it together. Didn't Mommy and Daddy put on the emergency contact form that I had to be excused from activities like these? I shouldn't even be in class today! I raise my hand to go, but before I can Mr. Peckins slaps down a nice, round vial of green nastiness in front of me.

I can't help it. A chair is knocked over as I run out the door. I've made a scene now, but its not like I care what they think. BathroombathroombathroomNOW. I swing open the door, nearly hit another girl in the face on my way to the sink, and wash and wash and wash and wash.

By the time I feel clean, it's been a half an hour. I sigh. This has been what, the third time this has happened? I swear, I need to drop Bio…

If I don't stop my tendencies, I'll either A) get picked on, which I really could care less about since I can throw a mean roundhouse or B) get taken out of school. The second option isn't too bad either, until I remember that I'm not allowed to go back to the palace until I'm better. Then I'd be stuck at the house all day long and what would that do?

If Mommy and Daddy find out, I've got a lesser chance of going home to the palace. So nobody has to know. I throw my shoulders back, hold my head high and head down to the library to chill off. Peckins won't care that I'm gone. I go and scroll through the many titles, trying to find something to read. I want something funny, but all I can find are books about death and angst and lost love.

Teenagers are whiny. I am no exception.

The house. Finally. I sigh, letting my head hit the steering wheel. On days like this, I wish I was back in Pakavel, not living in a suburb and going to a public high school in the middle of nowhere. But I can't go back until I get better. That was the deal.

I head into the house, plopping myself onto the couch. Daddy comes into the room, holding onto a glass of water. "Hey there sweetie," he says, walking over and sitting down next to me. "How was school?"

"It was an experience." I take the glass of water from his hands and take a dreg, swirling the water around in my mouth.

"I see." He gives me a smile and we sit there in silence, but its not awkward. For some reason, the quiet has always been sort of a thing between me and Daddy. We don't need words, because we're content where we are.

Besides, what could I say to somebody who's done so much so perfectly? He's not only just my father. He's my king too.

"Hey," he says, and I glance at him. "There's a movie playing tomorrow that I'd thought you'd like to see. We could go see it and…I don't know, go to the mall later?"

"Shopping? You hate shopping," I say skeptically.

"I'll make an exception. After all, homecoming's coming up," he says playfully, smirking.

He's trying to make me forget. Forget about him. Maybe I should…too bad I can't, could never. I shrug and say, "Can't we go do archery or something?"

"I'd think it'd be better if we waited until Sunday to do that," Dad said. "Come on now Rin, you know you want to."

Daddy has a way of making me want something even when I really don't want it at all. I shrug and say, "Okay, fine, as long as you guys don't try to find me a dress that too modern."

"Rin, you can't keep dressing like you're old age royalty. Getting you to accept jeans and a t-shirt were a nightmare enough." Daddy rises.

"I like things to be proper."

"Nobody can know you're a princess here. You know how people will react. Not that it matters…you act enough like a princess anyway." Daddy shuffles over to the table and picks up this huge stack of letters that have been sitting there for days, untouched. "Would you mind going through these for me?" he says, plopping the stack on my lap.

Oh come on. He did that on purpose, just to see how I'd react. I've told him before how may germs are on the mail. The pile is a radioactive sludge bucket of waste…I inch it away and head on over to the bathroom (again) to scrub…and scrub…and scrub.

It's too much to hope for that Daddy didn't hear. But maybe I can sneak to my room before he catches me…

"Rin," Daddy says. "I need to talk to you."

Here comes the sheriff. I turn around with exasperation in the hall, fully aware that I am the textbook definition of a rebellious teenage daughter.

"How many times did you just wash your hands?" he demands, staring at the raw skin.

"Exactly twelve, fully."

"Rin…"

"What? Going to do something about it?" That last sentence wasn't needed, but I throw it out there anyway, as a defense. My insides are an egg balancing on a counter, and I'm trying my hardest to keep that egg from falling off.

Daddy's face saddens. "Rin, we can't go back to Pakavel until you get better. That's not going to happen until you start being a little bit more positive."

Anger, flaring. Irresistible, clinging, morphing me into something I don't want to be. Overall there is that monster anxiety, the follower that says I have to protect myself. "Like you, you mean?"

"I wasn't always optimistic. It's something you have to work at." His tone is very gentle and understanding…its one of the things about him that I both love and can't stand. He's impossible to make angry. I shake my head and say, "You've _always _been a positive person. Can't you just admit that not all of us are meant to see the glass half full?"

"You're referring to those old analogies, now? You must be listening to your grandfather." His tone changes…he's trying to make me laugh.

"No," I say, grumbling.

Laughter is out of the question, so he changes his strategy. Tell is as is. "Life would get a lot better for you if you tried putting a smile on your face every now and then."

"There you go again." I have to force myself not to yell.

"What am I doing _this _time?" A tennis match, going back and forth but neither player willing to relinquish the ball, no matter how tired they are.

I let myself scowl, at least. "Saying those things. It's going to be alright, if you tried harder. Everything will turn out just fine. That's what you always say, and it doesn't work."

"There's no magic cure, Rin, for this or for anything else. The most you can do is take baby steps, and with time-"

"Time doesn't make it any better. It _never _does."

Daddy sighs, rubbing his head. "You can be so difficult."

"So can you. You're just as stubborn." The egg is wobbling, but I catch it just in time.

"You're not going to get better in a day. This may take years to overcome. Patience is the best thing you can have right now."

"Which of my psychiatrists took you aside and said that?"

"I don't need a doctor to tell me what I already know. It was a lesson that took years for me to learn. My teenage years weren't exactly easy." There's a lemon in his voice, a bitterness that I haven't tasted before. Daddy hardly ever talks to me about when he was my age…why should he? Everything to know is in the history books.

"They weren't exactly hard, either." I shoot the bullet out of the gun, the insult flying. I can have control this way.

"You have no idea…" he laughs lowly, shaking his head. He drops his head and mumbles something about a bridge.

"Another thing you do!" I toss my hands in the air, making sure they align perfectly or else the entire world will come crumbling down. "You mutter things under your breath, like you think that I can't hear them but I do!" The egg is starting to shake on the table.

"Oh really? Then what did I just say?" His glare is cold on me, iron. I've done something that's usually unattainable for me…I've struck a nerve.

My eyes shuffle, shift. They hardly ever hold a gaze. "It…it doesn't matter! It's rude to whisper things under your breath."

"You can't really talk, Rin."

I can't. But I do anyway. "All this stuff is easy for you to say. You don't understand. You never had to put up with being crazy."

"Rin…"

The egg inside me falls, cracks, and splatters against the floor. "Stop trying to make everything seem okay when it's not! You…you never had to put up with OCD!"


	3. Hailstones

_Disclaimer: I own no song lyrics_

Daddy closes his eyes. This is an argument we've had a thousand times before, so much that I know the exact words that come next. "Obsessive Compulsive Disorder does _not_ mean you're crazy Rin, it's just a mental illness-"

"That I was born with." I finish off for him, rolling my eyes.

I don't want anybody to think I have a bad relationship with my dad. I don't, really. We're like best friends…as long as OCD doesn't get in the way. When that happens, that part of me clashes and then some sort of hidden part in him clashes and we're both cast out to sea, unable to do anything but yell and scream about what the other doesn't do. It's aggravating.

"Rin, OCD is an anxiety disorder. You just have more feelings of apprehension than the average person and you act on it to try and stop it. Nothing else."

"If I was strong I'd be able to control it. I can stop my worry." I want to put up a shield, shut him out. I know I'm lucky enough to have parents that understand. But all I can see is a world of my own right now. Dad doesn't understand that. He's never been able to sink inside his own chaos, a place where there's nothing but your hurt and your fright and your screams…this is an everyday reality for me.

"It takes practice, Rin. Maybe even years of-"

"I don't have years, I have right now!"

Daddy's deep eyes are kind, gentle. "Patience, Rin. Just be patient."

I huff. "Fine. I'm gonna…go upstairs and look for my homecoming dress online." Without another word I tramp to my room and shut the door, plopping onto my bed. My radio (which is still on from this morning) plays softly in the background.

_If I could fall…into the sky…do you think time…would pass me by…and you know I'd walk a thousand miles if I could just see you…tonight. _

I gulp. Yeah, I would walk a thousand miles just to see him. And many more than that, if such a thing didn't seem so desperate. I send a prayer up high and wonder how God will answer. There's one thing about Sander that nothing can ever take away, and that is my love for him. Even if he is no longer around.

The door creaks open and Mommy slips in, a willow against the wind. She's so pretty, sometimes so much so that I have to curse it. It is her good looks that have passed onto me and that have made me the target of every guy in school.

Though what am I complaining for? Many girls would die to have my figure…my ebony hair, my violet eyes. In fact, my beauty (and I definitely don't mean to brag, really) has made me the strongest person alive. The most powerful weapon in the world is a woman's body…with it we can raise men to their feet or cast them down to their knees. It only has to be guarded properly.

"Daddy sent you in here to talk to me, didn't he?" It was too soon; I'm still smoldering from the argument earlier.

"He's not always the best with words, snow. Sort of like you." Mommy smoothes out her dress and comes in to sit by me.

"At least I don't act like I know what's going on in another person's head," I grumble, though my complaints are irrelevant. Daddy is just trying to help.

"He can help better than you know, dearest." Mommy strokes my hair. As she does I am reminded of a past memory, and my heart winces. I wish Sander could know what it was like to have his head caressed by a mother. He probably has never felt that. The one thing he needed, needs, most, and the one thing that I could never give him, no matter how badly I wanted to.

He probably didn't have a mom to hold him while he cried, either.

"Rin? Listen please," Mommy says. "Daddy gets your position a lot easier than you think."

"How would he know," I say bitterly, crossing my arms and legs and bouncing them up and down, counting the numbers. _"He _never had to deal with anything like this. He never had to…to battle with a mental disorder or…control himself from doing something that was bad."

"You'd be surprised," Mommy says, brushing back some of my bangs gently, like mothers do.

"Dad's always been perfect," I say snappily. "Everybody always looks up to him and everybody always treats him like he's some amazing person. Even when he was a kid-"

"There are many things you don't know about your father, Rin."

"Like what?" I stare Mommy straight in the eyes. "He restored Pakavel, he saved Condolet, he saved Grandma and Aunt Yin…there's nothing horrible that he's ever done in his life."

"You don't know the whole story, snow." Mommy kisses my head and says, "Be glad you don't."

"Nothing could be so terrible that he couldn't tell me about it," I hush. "Not with my OCD."

"Your disorder isn't your fault. It's your brain that tells you what to do, but always remember that _you _are in control of your brain."

I'm not in the mood for life-changing stories right now. Mommy gets up and leaves; as she does so I remember that I'm out of hand sanitizer. The store is only a short walk away from my house.

I glance out my window. A half an hour trip at the most. They'll never know I'm gone. Without a word I open the window, slip out of it and fall to the ground; anyone else's legs would have been broken by the fall, but of course, I'm trained.

Houses pass by, one cardboard cutout right after another. Where was the beauty of originality, the singing of horses in the background as ladies of the court and brave knights flirted in the great hall? This was suburbia, something you'd see out of a kids movie or a bad sitcom, neighborhood watches and all.

Maybe Mommy and Daddy chose this place because it seemed so safe. Maybe they thought that it would chase my OCD away.

As if.

I'm in and out of the store in five minutes (the illnesses floating around in a pharmacy are just _awful) _and headed back down the street towards my house with my sanitizer in hand. I've got to keep it well hidden when I get inside the house. If Daddy catches me with this, it'll be worse than if I'm found puffing on drugs.

When I get ten steps away from the place, however, clouds begin to gather. No biggie. I'll just have to hurry back.

That's not what the sky is saying. Within minutes thunder clamors through the wings of wind, and hail is vomited from the ether of lightning. It's plain I've got to take shelter…yet there's nowhere to go. The store is too far back, even for me to run…I'm trapped.

There has to be _somebody _in this tiny town who can give me a roof! I glance back and forth between the many houses to see that they are all shuttered up. No light dwells within…except for a dim candle in the window of a blue two story.

Creeper that I am, I look closer till I see a familiar face and sag in relief. I can't seem to recall a name, but I know that I recognize the person and with weather like this there's no time to dawdle. I stride right up to the door, pound on it heavily and shout, "Please let me in! It's pouring out here!"

The door opens immediately, as if Armageddon itself had been reigning down on the house. When I see the full features of the person I'm staring at however I'm taken aback, and nearly pull his own door shut in his face so I can walk away.

No wonder I couldn't remember who it was. I'm on Liam's doorstep.


	4. What Happened at Liam's

_To my readers; this fan fiction will be posing more adult themes soon. I beg you, if you are not at the age of fourteen at least, to examine yourself before reading. _

_To Midnightbunny; I will give you a review of your stories if you send me a PRIVATE message to your email address. Why won't fan fiction let you on? _

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Liam asks, narrowing his eyelids at me.

I resist the urge to push past him and take a deep breath, saying, "Please let me sit here. Until the rain passes. I did you a favor and showed you around the school."

"Didn't want that in the first place," he says bluntly.

It wasn't meant to hurt my feelings, but I can't help but admit that it does anyway. "Don't care. Just let me in."

He stares at me a little longer before stepping (finally) out of my way and allowing me to cross the threshold into his house. I shudder in relief, shaking the water off of me and stepping inside to collapse on one of his lounge chairs, one of the few pieces of furniture that isn't packed in a box.

"Hey, you're not supposed to sit there," Liam says, pointing to my seat.

"Don't care." I look around, observing the high ceiling and tiled floor. "Nice place."

"Thanks," he says bluntly. He continues on with his everyday business as if I wasn't even here; unpacking boxes, chucking things around the room, and just plain being loud. I can tell he doesn't want me here.

"You know if I'm that much of a burden I can go," I say, pointing to the door. He doesn't answer.

I roll my eyes and look around, getting off my chair. There must be something in here I can do to distract me from Mr. Cheerful. "Want me to help?" I ask.

Still nothing. I know what its like to move, though…the unpacking that never seems to end, the multiple loss of items you were sure you took with you, the emptiness of a new house that could never fill the place where the old one was. If anyone had asked to help me unpack my things when I first got here, I would have gladly taken up the offer.

I go and open up a random box. This manages to get his attention. "Hey, don't look in there!" he says, but I do anyway. As I peer in I see the cause of his instant panic; no wonder his eyes are so baggy, his expression so dull. He's as stoned as they come.

"You're a druggie?" I ask, not bothering to have manners about it.

Liam's eyes are wide, scared. "Not really. I have a joint every now and then."

"Really?" There's a lot more in here than just, 'a joint every now and then.' "Your parents know?"

"Know? They deal in it. I'm trying to get off the stuff." Liam kicks around another box, slightly in panic, slightly in what I could call (for some reason) relief.

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, confused.

He shrugs. "I sort of want them to get caught."

"I'm no snitch," I snap.

"When it's illegal, you aren't exactly snitching," he points out.

I shrug. He looks at me with incredulity, saying, "You're not going to call the cops?"

"What you do is what you do and what I do-" I think about the plastic bag still on the chair, "Is what I do."

"Doesn't make it right," Liam says back. "People get hurt because of the drug trade all the time."

"I know," I say. In all honesty, it doesn't really bother me. It should…but it doesn't. "If it bothers you that much, why don't you turn them in yourself?"

"They're my parents," he says simply. "Would you turn yours in if you had the chance?"

I have to laugh aloud at the thought of my father doing anything wrong. When I do, he flinches, as if he can't believe what I am. "Well, since you put it that way…"

There's a icy silence. "Yeah, fine." He says. He goes to shut the box top quickly and says, "If it'll keep you quiet…you can have one."

I finally manage to make it home about an hour later, after the rain has subsided. Once I get there I instantly squirt on some sanitizer (already the bottle's halfway gone) and then go down into the garage to work on my project.

Woodworking is my favorite talent; with it I can make anything. Back at the palace there was a large room in which I could spend all day performing my craft. Here there's only a couple of tools with a curfew, because the neighbors don't like the band saw going at twelve o clock at night. Unfortunately, that's the time I work the best.

Having OCD, you'd think I'd be afraid of such sharp and dangerous things. Untrue. Very opposite, actually. Unlike my life, I can control the tools. I can shape the wood into what I want it to be. Anything bad that happens along the way with the project is my fault. It's very predictable, and safe.

Mommy and Daddy don't notice; they probably think I've been down here the whole stormy time. I can't make up my mind if it's a good thing or not that they trust me. I pick up a random, misshapen piece, force myself to try and be excited about it, and start fashioning.

After about a half an hour, I toss the old wood away. It's not a bad start to the box I was making, but it wasn't perfect. It wasn't _me. _It was just…good enough. Probably because instead of really getting into my work, all I wanted was a distraction.

Nothing can distract me right now. My creativity is gone, zapped out of me. It has been for months.

I sigh. I haven't really made much ever since…that. Sander. When he left, he took my passion with him.

Above all, one feeling reigns supreme now, one massive guilt trip is looming in my mind. The events of the past afternoon haven't given me any relief, unlike I was hoping.

No. The only thing this day has given me is regret.


	5. No Poofy

_You come to me with scars on your wrists, you tell me this will be the last night feeling like this…_

_Just came to say goodbye…didn't want you to see me cry I'm fine…_

_But I know it's a lie!_

"Rin, turn it off," Daddy says, glancing in the mirror to see my blaring my hand held stereo in the backseat.

"But why?" I whine, mouthing along to the lyrics. "This is a wicked band."

"You told me once that this used to be your favorite song," Mommy says, coming to my aid.

Daddy sighs. "I just don't think its something Rin should be listening to."

"I'm not two." I turn it up louder, so it drowns all else out. Both my parents sigh but they don't say anything more as we pull into the dress outlet near the mall. As Daddy parks he says, "You guys can go in, I'm going to take a nap in here."

"Oh no, my dear," Mommy says, pulling on his sleeve. "This is a family outing."

Daddy grumbles as we pull him toward the shop. I have to let out a little chuckle. His one weakness, I've found, is anything female. My revenge on him dumping the mail on me yesterday.

The store is empty. It's so close to homecoming that pretty much everybody already has their dress already. It doesn't matter though; the entire place is still crammed to the rim with dresses.

"Good afternoon," a bright-eyed clerk says from behind a desk as we walk in. "Can I help you find anything?"

"Something elegant," Mommy says, her eyes glittering.

"Something modest," Daddy adds, his face full of dread.

"Something so completely provocative it makes sexy look sloppy," I say, and everyone's eyes bulge, except for Mommy, who is giving me her _behave _look.

"Length?" the storekeeper asks.

"As short as you can make them." I beam at the clerk, and she looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Floor length will be fine," Mommy puts in, and Daddy agrees. She goes off to search (for what, I'm unsure, she probably just wants to get away from us) and I stand still, looking at all the thousands of dresses.

"Rin, look at this one here," Mommy says, holding out a long, puffy red dress. "This is nice."

"I told you, I don't want anything pretty. It'll just remind me of the parties in Pakavel." I cross my arms.

"Rain, I'll get you any dress you want, as long as it covers you. Price tag doesn't matter," Daddy says.

"You guys wanted to put me in suburbia, so I'm going to dress like a suburban…girl," I say, not wanting to use language and therefore set my dad off.

"You're going to dress like a princess. That's who you are," Mommy adds before walking away to find something, and Daddy follows. I grit my teeth. So, I can be a princess when it's applicable to something stupid like this, but not when it really matters?

I saunter off to look for something really ugly, just to make Daddy laugh. Or cry. He knows how difficult I can be.

Trying on dresses is so gross! So many people have put their bodies into it, you can obviously imagine how many germs are on the things. I only have one requirement for my clothes whilst shopping; they have to look like nobody has tried them on. I pick dress after dress off a rack way in the back, where nobody ever goes. Without even looking at them I carry the garments to a (spotlessly clean, thank God) dressing room and start trying on dress after dress.

Hideous. Vomit colored. Out of date. In Pakavel I had dresses handmade for me. My Aunt Yin, sadly, has given me a particular taste for rare and expensive things that I can't seem to rid myself of…

Pink is not my color. I hang it back up, and try on the slinky, "if I bend over you see my butt" gold handkerchief thing I found tucked behind a dress that would smother me if the skirt blew up while I was wearing it.

I try on a purple thing, thinking about life in the current stage.

High school is such a load of crap. I feel like I'm in a daycare, being watched and held back, not moving forward, because I'm not allowed to. Being restrained against bigger and better things, things that I need to do, things that the world needs. If I was in Pakavel, those things would get done. Not so here.

High school. Psh. Everybody in it just needs to grow up. I talked about it at dinner the other day, because it was weighing on my mind so heavily. Daddy says that everybody grows up on their own pace, that some kids aren't ready for that kind of change.

I bite my lip. Too bad! I had to grow up just as fast, so can everybody else! I _hated _it, so much that it nearly _killed _me, but I survived!

I didn't always think this way. Before, I loved high school with every pore of my being. My senior year I had looked forward to immensely; I had been so excited, so enthusiastic, to finally be at the top of the class, to become an adult, to be one of the big dogs. That was until the reality check came and this summer settled in. Things haven't been the same since.

Yes, senior year was a dream that couldn't come soon enough. Sadly, I didn't realize how quickly my own personal heaven could be turned into a living hell.

Okay, fine, it's not that bad. But I can't believe how much I complained about last year when it was happening. I look back now and long for those days…long for them so much that I feel like it's a sin and I disgust myself just by wanting them back.

No, high school is no longer just my safe haven. It is my cage, my playpen. It is my in-between place that I can neither escape from or want to leave. There is little here that I still want to stay for. My only friend is Lia. Most of my classes are blow offs. I learn nothing…laugh little…smile less.

Yet I know what lies beyond graduation. College. Things that I can't pay for. Bills and rent money and struggling and worrying where the next payment is going to come from. I'm unsure which world is better.

You're thinking that because I'm a princess I won't have to worry about all these things. After all, my parents will pay for my education.

Wrongo. Once I get my diploma, I'm out of here. I'm cutting my parents off, just to show that I am dependent on no one, that I can take care of myself. I will trust me, and nobody else. The place I want to go back to the most is the palace, of course…but I can't do that, because I'm forbidden. I have to _get better_ first. If I was allowed to I'd forget higher education and head straight back home.

Not happening, so I'm ploughing my own path.

Why do I have this attitude? It's simple, really. Nobody is ever going to break me again like Sander broke me. It may have been an accident, it may have not, but he shattered me nevertheless. Nobody will ever get that chance. If I fall, it'll be my own fault, not because I put my hope in somebody else.

Fine then. I'll show them all before I'm queen that I can do things on my own.

Every single dress I've tried on is completely hideous on me. There's only one garment left; a midnight blue kimono style, long sleeves and all, that has a slit that starts at my hip and goes to the floor, showing off my right leg. The white outline of a dragon curls around the back, wrapping around so its head is in the front just on top of my heart.

It's cheap because on everybody else it probably looks costumey, but on me it looks…right. Except for the slit, it's not very provocative, which is disappointing, but what can I do? I have to say I like it.

I lean out the dressing room door. "Mom! I found it!"

* * *

_Rin's being...well, we'll get into that next chapter, lol. I do not own any Skillet lyrics or whatnot, please review. And Midnightbunny, please give me some sort of contact info so I can review your story!_


	6. From the Balcony

That night I hung out with Liam, his house. We were in his garage, and I was sitting on an old crate, watching as he leaned against the hood of his clunky car. Even though I could hardly stand him, he was somebody to talk to, somebody who wouldn't pester me with questions about my breakup, somebody who I didn't have to plaster on a smile for because they were worried about me. He was new, and had no connections to my past. There was nothing there to remind me of my ex.

Liam was puffing on another joint. I shook my head and said, "For crying out loud, can't you ever stop smoking?"

"Can't you ever stop brooding?" he added in retaliation.

"No."

Liam took another inhale. "You're no fun. All you do is complain. I'd be able to put up with it if I could find some sympathy for you, but I can't muster any mercy when you're so…so…"

"So what?" I asked nastily.

"Bitter and angry all the time," he finished. "That's all you are. Mean and bitter and angry."

I shrugged. "So? What can I do about it? That's the world for you."

"Doesn't mean you have to be like that."

"Life has turned me into that."

"I don't believe that for a minute."

"Believe what you want."

"See what I mean?"

I shrugged. Believe him or not, there was a time when I was happy, when I didn't have dreams of my beloved every night, of him wrapping me in his arms and me resting my head against his, and there was no safer place in the world…

"Will you do me a favor?" I asked him. He put the joint down, inquisitive, and I moved towards him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and planting a deep kiss upon his lips.

He was nothing like what I was used to. We did this a lot, because he knew I was alone and I knew he didn't care. There were no feelings there…just action and reaction. No love, no sparks. It made the whole thing boring, tasteless, pointless But what did it matter? Anything to make the loneliness go away.

* * *

Counter-attack. Kissing Liam, making out with Liam, only made the emptiness deepen, only made me want my sweetheart back all the more.

My hands have developed a rash because I have been up for the past two hours washing them, washing my lips, trying to get the stain of Liam off me. I get up off my bed, go to the light switch, and flicker the thing up and down.

On, off, on, off.

It's 2 AM. Things didn't always used to be like this…I never used to be this empty, this heartbroken, this longing for his arms…

_"You look so pretty, Rin," Bretta said, her eyes wide at how gorgeous I looked. We were in my room, standing on the balcony looking over the sunny hills of Pakavel, and it was my sixteenth birthday. _

_I twirled in my yellow dress, beaming. "Tonight I'll become the kingdom's most treasured princess. It took forever for this day."_

_"Everyone will love you," Diana swooned. "You're so beautiful. Today you're sixteen but you look like you're twenty. There's going to be so many hot guys all over you."_

_"Older hot guys," Bretta added in mischievously. _

_I had to laugh. "Yeah, if Daddy lets any of them get near me." _

_"Your dad is too protective. He's got to let you go sometime," Diana argued._

_"I'll be locked up forever if he has his way." I cross my arms slowly, turning away from them both, squeezing my fingers against my skin, and then loose, and then tight again, and then loose…_

_"Hey, my cousin Sander is here from Genevieve," Bretta puts in out of nowhere, her eyes now wild. "I can put in a good word for you, and I mean, we're best friends. Your dad can't object to someone who's from my family, right?"_

_"You don't know my father," I say dully, shaking my head._

_Diana instantly springs into action. "Just stay here. If Bretta and I play our cards right, you'll be Juliet by the end of the evening." Diana gave me a sassy wink and off she went, pulling Bretta forcefully by the arm behind her._

_I sat on my bed, rolling my eyes. Those girls just wouldn't let up. Raised voices are coming up from the garden below; curious, I get up and peek out over the balcony, wondering what all the noise was about._

_It was Grandpa and Dad…nothing new. They squabbled all the time. Yet this seemed like a little bit more than a petty argument. I leaned over farther to hear better, the words drifting from the ground to my ears._

_"When are you going to stop living in a fantasy?" Grandpa demanded, coming close to Daddy's face. "She's sixteen-she needs to be told."_

_"I can't let her find out about everything that went on," Daddy argued, shaking his head. "She looks up to me. Absolutely not."_

_"She's older than you were!"_

_"It doesn't matter."_

_"Rin needs to find out about how Pakavel and Condolet were saved." At the sound of my name, my interest piqued. "The whole story, not just the fluffy, happy parts that you and your wife like to keep in. For Condavel's sake, she doesn't even know half of it!"_

_"And I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. She's happy that way."_

_"But she's ignorant. You're keeping out precious details that even the youngest child in the kingdom knows!"_

_"There are orders not to tell her." _

_"One of her friends could let it slip, you know how teenage girls are. If she finds out on her own, it could shatter the relationship. You could protect her, you could let her know the consequences of your actions! What if she starts doing it herself, then you'll feel guilty."_

_"That'll never happen. She's not the type," Daddy answered sharply._

_"Yeah. That's exactly what I thought when I was raising you." _

_"You didn't know me!" Out of Daddy's voice rose anger, and I was surprised…what had him so upset? "You didn't know me at all back then!"_

_"You think you know Rin, too, but there's things she's probably hiding from you. She already has OCD."_

_"Exactly. She might think that she has to do rituals to keep me from doing it, if she finds out."_

_"Explain to her that you're better."_

_"You've never been in my position. You don't realize how hard it is to tell her."_

_"And it's just as hard to hear it. I won't tell her myself. This is something you have to do on your own. But I would advise you that the longer you let her go unaware, the worse it will be in the long run." Grandpa stomped off, and Daddy did something I never saw him do before, swear and storm into the castle with a fury that was unsettling to me._

_I drew away from the balcony, shaking my head and trying to process everything I had just heard. Daddy was keeping things from me? A bubble of resentment bloomed up in me, growing larger and larger, yet I let it settle within my chest as the question popped into my head…what had my father done?_

Nearly two years later, I had never figured out what the deal was with my dad. It had bothered me a lot, back then, knowing that my father had a flaw, even though I wasn't sure what it was. Now, it gave me power. My perfect daddy wasn't so perfect after all. I couldn't live up to his image, but maybe now, I wouldn't have to.

I smiled. How great would it be if the thing my dad had been talking to grandpa about had been super bad?

* * *

_SO sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I'll try to be better from now on. Its not an excuse, but its been a little rough lately, so we'll leave it at that. I hope I've still got some fans yet! J Midnightbunny, I've still got stuff to say to you…is there any way we can communicate besides this way?_


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